Grand Theft Auto: Windpoint City
by Zane Longsharks
Summary: Lucky has always been a ruthless man but even gangsters have their soft spots. For Lucky that soft spot is his family. The McDuncan Clan has always stood by each other in thick and thin. So when Lucky received a plea for help from his uncle in Windpoint City he asked no question and simply rush to assist. A choice that he may not live long enough to regret...
1. 1 Arrival by Fire

It was indeed a rare day when the Yartman International wasn't packed to bursting. However the increased threat of terrorism were indeed making those rare days into more and more of a regular occurrence for the largest airport on west cost. On this particularly day the airport was empty except for a platoon of NOOSE officers, FIB agents, and homeland security soldiers. All heavily armed and tensed as a bowstring. They all looked expectantly towards the incoming plane. Flight 69 from Ireland was already in American airspace and just a couple dozen miles away from Yartman when the terrorist threat had been uncovered, it along with four others were the only planes that would be allowed to berth until the issue had been resolved.

"Steady men." Colonel Sharps ordered his men. "At ready. Take no chances. If anyone gives off even a hint of suspicion terminate them. I would rather a thousand lawsuits than another massacre like what occurred at Yalebon a few months back."

The memory still made him shudder. Jeseburn Sharps had served his country faithfully for half his life. First over in the Middle East then here in the homeland, of the two wars he could accurately say which was more dangerous. During his four tours in Iraq he had seen nothing that could hold a candle to what he encountered on an everyday basis as Officer in charge of the NOOSE Tactical Response Team. It was as if the whole country was going to the dogs. First the cordon of the two bridges which connected the city to the rest of the state as a result of the Influenza epidemic, and now the close of the airports until further notice because of a terrorism threat. If this continued Windpoint City would be completely cut off from the rest of the state. Maybe that was for the best, Jeseburn thought grimly. He half believed that the Queen of Illinois was already beyond saving, no since in it spreading out to the rest of the US and making the whole country look bad.

The NOOSE operative pulled down his ski mask as the plane came in for a landing. Doubts later, it was time to go to work now. He gripped his FN-P90 even tighter and waited. Within ten minutes the plane was landed, he watched through the wide floor to ceiling windows as the passengers disembarked. A couple FIB agents and a dozen of his men were there to meet them, weapons primed and ready. At once the officer began hustling the crowd over towards the main reception area. One braver soul than the others put up a struggle but a vicious gun butt to the head by a FIB agent quickly set him straight. Jeseburn gave an unseen smirk under his mask. Now that was good police work. He stood a little straighter as the crowd came piling in to stand before him in a maelstrom of cussing, cries, shouts, and complaints.

"EVERYONE QUIET DOWN!" Jeseburn bellowed aiming his weapon at the crowd. At once silence settled over the building, the crowd seemed suitably cowed whether from his voice or his aimed weapon was irrelevant. He at once began scanning the crowd for the potential terrorists. None of them really jumped out to him. Frumpy old women alongside equally dull old men, sniveling children tightly clutching the hands of their terrified mothers, executives in their three piece suits who were the ones who raised the most protest secured as they were in their wealth and exalted positions. None of them jumped out as a potential threat…none of them except one. He stood towards the back of the end almost hidden behind an obese old lady who was squawking in a manner reminiscent of an upset chicken. Two things stood out about him. The first was his utter lack of fear. The only emotion that radiated from his youthful face was cold anger. In addition to that was the large vivid green four leaf clover tattooed on his neck. In all his years of law enforcement one thing Jeseburn had learned to do was identify a threat. This man was a threat if he had ever seen one. He coolly dissected and filed away the rest of the stranger, checking out every tiny detail as he had been trained to do.

_Broad well built shoulders…six feet one…..approximately a 158 lbs… muscular means he must work out frequently…Clean shaven…..freckles….appears to be between sixteen to nineteen years of age….Brown hair….green eyes….Irish Ancestry certain…identifying marks beside clover tattoo are two scars, one running the length of the right side of his jaw line, and another puckered asterisk shaped scar on the left cheek reminiscent of a healed gunshot wound. _

Jeseburn motioned one of his officers over.

"Screen that one extra good," He murmured motioning with his eyes. "I want his insides on the outside before we are through."

"Sir." The man affirmed before returning to his place.

"I know you've all got questions." Jeseburn spoke up addressing the crowd. There was a murmur of consent but he pressed on. "And they will all be answered in due time that I promised. But the short of it is that we've got it on good intelligence that this airport is to be the target of an act of terrorism."

There was a couple of gasps from the crowd at that and a clamoring of voices but Jeseburn continued on raising his voice over the ruckus, almost shouting.

"So for the sake of all involved the airport will be closed until further notice and you all are going to be searched to the bone for anything you may be hiding!"

There were louder shouts and cries of rage and fury but the sound of chambering rounds quieted the crowd once more.

"Now then," Jeseburn said to the now quiet crowd. "If you will please form orderly lines and follow the officers into the different processing rooms one by one."

His name was Connor McDuncan but the handful of people who knew that also knew that he preferred to be referred to by the nickname he had rightly earned at the age of fourteen: Lucky. At nineteen years old Lucky knew that he wasn't the most levelheaded person in the world. Heck, he knew that some might go so far as to say that he had a temper issue. Complete nonsense of course. He simply had a low tolerance for being disrespected and lately it seemed that that was all the world seemed intent on doing. This was another case. Lucky took a deep breath and fought off the urge to do murder as two police officers who gripped their shotguns a bit too tightly and eyed him a bit too beadily for his liking flanked him into the processing room. He arrived just in time to witness a rather nice bodied blond woman tearfully putting on back a pink dress while two FIB agents stared her down with unabashed lust. Lucky couldn't help but join them in their admiration.

"Look at the ass on you." One of them whistled as the woman struggled to pull the tight dress down over her sizeable breasts leaving her nether regions completely open to the officers' scrutiny. Her see-through panties also left very little to the imagination.

"Your husband is a lucky bastard he is." The other federal agent remarked taking a last eyeful as the blond finally won the battle with her clothing and made herself decent. She promptly gave both agents the finger and exited through the door opposite the one Lucky had just entered.

"Step right up big boy." Said the first agent who had been taunting the woman a few seconds before as he finally noticed Lucky's arrival. He was a rather fat man with a drooping mustache. His skin was almost unhealthily pale. In his hand he carried a small metal detector that Lucky was only now noticing.

"Strip." The fat man ordered. "Completely."

Lucky stiffened and at once so did everyone in the room. The two officers who had flanked him in fingered the triggers of their weapons restlessly. All four law enforcement officers eyed Lucky warily as his tanned skin began to dark, a tangible show of the anger that was now ten times the breaking point and only held in check by amazing willpower.

"You deaf boy?" The fat officer growled. "Afraid to show that little pencil dick maybe? News for you if you don't you don't leave the room….alive that is."

Lucky was not getting naked for men. No that was just not going to happen, he would gladly be shot dead first. There was a very likely chance of that occurring too he thought. The fat agent scowled at him and dropped his free hand to the glock 22. At his waist which was almost hidden by his protruding gut.

"Last call boy." He said softly.

Lucky prepared himself to rush forward and tackle the obese policeman. He had not forgotten the two armed officers at his back or the other who was standing beside the fat man watching him like a lion ready to pounce. He knew he probably wouldn't get three steps and he had already conceded that he would meet his end here, in this unmarked room in this shitty city; shot down by stupid useless pigs without ever accomplishing what he came to do. The legend of Lucky McDuncan cut so viciously short by a cruel turn of faith. Even with the knowledge that death could be the only outcome Lucky launched himself forward. If it came to a choice between death and dishonor he knew which he preferred. His move took all of them by surprise. The fat officer yelped and tried to palm his gun but he had forgotten to release the holster. The officers behind Lucky cursed loudly and raised their shotguns, just then realizing that in the enclosed space they would kill their federal counterparts as well. It took their brains another second to simultaneously arrive at the conclusion that they didn't care. However before they could squeeze the triggers a deafening explosion resounded and the building shook as if experiencing a magnitude eight earthquake. Everyone in the room was thrown to the floor.

"Jesus Christ what the fuck was that!" The second FIB agent bellowed. He struggled to his feet and raced from the room his firearm drawn, the two police officers issued similar cries of shock and distress before doing the same. The fat FIB officer was the last to his feet. He shook his head and cursed loudly as he hastened to follow his companions. He was almost to the door when a flash of movement off to the corner of his eye caught his attention. He barely had time to register that it was a fist and didn't even have time to consider avoiding it. The punch connected directly with his right ear sending him staggering sideways with a roar of pain. The sound of this was lost under the sound of general ruckus which was coming from outside. Screams of agony, shouted orders, tramping feet, and frequent bursts of gunfire. Over all this was the loud whooping of the police siren. Still to err on the side of caution Lucky closed the door before turning back towards the policeman who was busy clutching his ear with both hnds, his face contorted in agony.

"You!" He screamed. "You son of a bitch! I can't hear! I can't hear! I'm a fucking kill you!"

"We've got unfinished business pencil dick." Lucky said derisively. "Let's see how big you are now big man. Come on big bad FIB man show me what you got."

The agent bellowed incoherently and fumbled for his firearm. Lucky wasn't having none of that, in just three steps he cleared the distance between them and rammed his fist right into the agent's gut. The rolls of fat were no match for force of Lucky's whole body plus his momentum. The man took a step back blue faced and gagging but Lucky was merciless. He seized the man's lowered face by the ears and held it steady while bringing his knee sailing upwards. It crashed into the officer's chin with a nasty crack. The Irishman then drew back turned his body a little to the side and while steadying the now groggy FIB agent with his left hand, he nailed the officer right in the nose with his right hand giving the blow everything he had. The officer was thrown backwards from the force of the punch and he lay still where he landed, his nose was a pulped and unrecognizable wreck. Lucky stepped to him and spat down on his face before pilfering his pockets with swift practiced motions. His search netted him fifty bucks and a coupon to a free meal from Burger Shot. He also took the chained badge from around the fat slob's neck and with a great deal of maneuvering and effort he managed to manhandle the FIB jacket off the loser as well. He donned both articles of clothing before finally snapping up the man's pistol and holding it down to his head. Lucky couldn't help but grimacing, the oversized jacket reeked of sweat and tacos. Outside the noise was only increasing, it was as if though there was a full-scale war. Perfect. Simply meant that a few more shots wouldn't be noticed.

"No," the fat man mumbled out almost understandably. Lucky noticed that his mouth was filled with blood, the knee to the chin had caused him to bite off a good portion of his tongue. "Three kids."

"They just became orphans." Lucky replied pleasantly before pulling the trigger twice. He turned his head away from the splatter of blood, skull fragments, and brain matter.

Lucky exited the room and was almost trampled by a squad of NOOSE officers who were running all out towards the landing zone. Lucky held his head down and rushed in the opposite direction towards the exit. He wasn't even given a second glance by the myriad of law enforcement official storming the place. He froze when he saw through the glass doors the large crowd which had already gathered. Beyond the yellow tape and the police vehicles were another cordon of news vans and reports. Then beyond that of course were the multitudes of pedestrian. Seeing nothing else for it Lucky shrugged and tucked the gun into his waistband where it was hidden by the extra large jacket. He put his hand in the jacket pockets held his head down and exited the building. Walking fast towards the crowd of civilians he tried to look inconspicuous; letting the clamor and chattering of the thousand of voices wash over him. He was just past the police blockade when famous luck ran out.

"Hey you!" He heard a voice called. Lucky turned to see two officers with their guns drawn pelting full out towards him. "Stop!"

_Like that's ever happening, _Lucky snorted. He turned and broke into a sprint. Running for all he was worth. He sped even faster when the loud reports of gunshot echoed and he felt something warm pass his cheek. A man in a jogging suit just a few feet ahead of Lucky collapsed in a mist of blood as the bullet struck him directly in the forehead. The crowd screamed and at once panic ensued as people tramped over each other trying to get away. The panic was further increased as the officers callously continued firing, hitting three more people. Lucky slipped right into the fleeing mass and wrestled off the FIB jacket before forcing a path through the crowd, punching and shouldering people aside, as he tried to put distance between him and the deranged law keepers. He watched a terrified woman rush over to a parked blue Buffalo and struggle with the keys, her hands shaking so much that she wasn't able to get it open. A large muscular black man in slacks and a wife beater grabbed her from behind and slammed her head into the roof of the vehicle. The woman slumped to the floor screaming and sobbing as blood gushed from a large cut on her forehead but the black man brutally kicked her in the stomach and snatched the keys from her limp hand. Lucky had seen enough. He changed his direction and made a beeline towards the scene wincing as bullets continued to fly over his head.

"Stop or we'll shoot!" A voice bellowed.

Lucky shook his head in disbelieve. Only cops could ever be so stupid, he thought as he watched the would be robber wrenched open the car door after unlocking it while the woman clutched her gushing head and wept. In a smooth motion Lucky drew his weapon and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, thrice. Each bullet connected with the carjacker in a spray of blood. The first took him through the side and caused him to lean over towards the car. The second caught him in the back of the neck and the final one clipped the top of his head. The man slumped jerking to the ground beside the woman he had just assaulted. A second later Lucky was alongside him. He fired two more shots point blank into the man's chest before snatching up the key and throwing himself into the car. He gunned the engine and floored it. It was not a moment too soon as the persuading police officers were almost upon him. Lucky ducked his head down as a hail of gunfire struck the vehicle, shattering the back window and piercing the vehicle at several points. Twice he was almost hit but soon the car was well out of range.

"Polski was hell it was," Lucky murmured to himself as he finally managed to ease his foot off the gas enough to slow the car down. He ran the last five minutes through his head, disbelieving of all the carnage that had occurred in so short a space of time. "But this place is just plain fucked up."

Off in the distance the sound of sirens increased. The noise actually helped Lucky to relax strange as that was. It was a sound that was comfortingly familiar; it promised him that what he had come to was not anything far off from what he had left behind. Lucky was still trying to decide whether that was good or bad as he continued to cruise.

((So here comes the arrival of our main protagonist. Lucky McDuncan from the fictional city of Polski Ireland that shall be fleshed out some more later on. If you guessed that it will be centered around the Irish American Killers then you guessed correctly though the name I will used is the Irish Mob. To those of you who was reading my other fanfic Grand Theft Auto: A MOB Story I'd just like to say that until further notice it will be put on the hiatus and I'll be focusing on this one instead. Just one more note. For those of you who haven't yet figured it out; Windpoint City is loosely based off Chicago key word being LOOSELY. It'll mostly be my interpretation of Chicago as it would be in a GTA game. :D. Read, Enjoy, Review.))


	2. 2 Jamin in Jamrock

_Come on you old bastard, _Lucky thought furiously to himself as the payphone steadily droned in his ear. _Pick up! Pick up the motherfucking phone!_ According to the street sign a few feet away he was on the corner of Weston and Dean. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this wasn't one of the nicer parts of town. The sidewalks were cracked and dirty, as were the roads. A lot of the buildings in sight were desolate and boarded over. Those that weren't were rather rundown and ragged looking. Also there were flimsy looking stalls at regular intervals selling a variety of items from Rasta merchandise to Caribbean cuisine. The Jamaican flag fluttered from poles on several rooftops and was painted unto several more walls. The Irishman noted that almost all the buildings he could see sported one of three colors, that was green, black, and yellow. Most of them had some combination of all three. Lucky saw that the pedestrians in sight walked along quickly, scowls firmly imprinted upon their faces. They were almost all black and quite a couple of them gave Lucky a funny look. With a curse Lucky hang up as the automotive voice spoke up telling him that the number he was trying to dial was not answering. He slammed the phone down waited for a second and then dialed the number again. The man jumped and almost fumbled when the phone was answered on the fourth ring.

"Who the fuck is this?" A voice growled angrily from the other end.

"Uncle Finn," Lucky said hastily. "Its Lucky."

"Lucky boy!" A voice boomed out in obvious relieve and joy. "Where the fuck are you? We went to pick you up from the airport not two hours ago. The fucking pigs wouldn't let us get within a mile of the place. They've got the whole area lockdown tight."

"Yeah I know." Lucky grunted. It was the reason why he was in this godforsaken neighborhood and completely lost. Just minutes after he had escaped in his stolen car he had run smack into a police Enforcer. Needless to say the pigs immediately took pursuit. Lucky had managed to outrun them but he had taken streets at random and was now completely lost.

"Where the hell are you?" The voice demanded.

"Corner of Weston and Dean. Ganzo I think." Lucky replied with a frown. The door to the building right adjacent to the battered payphone had just opened and a trio stepped out. They were dressed differently but with yellow and green being the common motif. Two of them sported dreadlocks and they were all dark complexioned. Lucky was relatively sure that they were Jamaicans. He had seen men like them before on television but never in real life. They appeared to be in a heated discussions judging from their faces and their wild gesticulations. Lucky could catch a word or two of what they were saying over the general noise of the street but no more, he wasn't really that interested either.

"Jesus Christ kid," His uncle snapped. "Of all the fucking places….we're coming. Hang tight, don't move. And for the love of god try to keep your fucking head down." The phone went dead and Lucky placed it back in its cradle with a grunt.

He saw that the three men were now all congregating around a red Huntley Sport SUV. They were so into their discussion that for the moment they failed to notice the black Speedo which had rapidly accelerated towards their direction. Lucky however did. He watched curiously as the van pulled to a screeching halt right next to the trio's automobile, obstructing the traffic while cutting off any escape by the vehicle. The next second the back of the Speedo burst open and five dark clad and masked men rushed out. Lucky noted that all the dark clad men were carrying AK-47's. The three Jamaicans reacted instantly. With cries and curses they made a break for cover while drawing concealed weapons. Quick as they were they were still far too slow. In a hail of thunderous gunfire the two Jamaicans with dreadlocks were viciously mowed down. Lucky winced as they fell to the floor almost literally ripped to shreds by the five salvos of high powered rounds. The streets immediately exploded into chaos as panicked pedestrians fled in whatever direction they could, cars slammed into each other trying to do the same. The third Jamaican had somehow managed to survive the volley. The death of his companions caused him to lose his nerve however, for after a quick look at their bodies he dropped his gun with a cry and ran. Lucky quickly realized from the fact that he wasn't immediately cut down that the only reason he had survived is that he had had been spared. This was reinforced by the fact that two of the murderers immediately gave chase. The Irishman eyes widened when he realized that they were all heading straight for him, in a quick movement Lucky's gun was out. The Jamaican was just a few feet from Lucky when one of his pursuers took him to the ground with a flying tackle.

The man's companion came to a halt when he noticed Lucky, his eyes immediately locking on the gun in Lucky's hand. The black clad assailant began to raise his riffle but before he could line it up Lucky's own weapon spat fire and the back of the would-be assassin's head exploded outward in a shower of blood and skull fragments. His companion who was still on the ground struggled to reach for a sidearm strapped to his leg but Lucky was quicker, the Irishman quickly readjusted his aim and pulled the trigger twice more. Both shots ripped into the enemy's head. One in the face and on the forehead. He fell back stone dead before he hit the floor, a large pool of red quickly began to spread out from his shattered skull. It was then that all hell broke loose. The four remaining gunman rushed forward firing indiscriminately. With a curse Lucky dashed across the street making a beeline for an alley. Bullets missed him by inches as he leapt over an orange Voodoo that had been abandoned in the middle of the street. Lucky impacted on his back, momentarily winding him but within a second he was back on his feet and dashing forward again. _What the fuck was I thinking? _Lucky mentally asked himself as he dodged for cover behind a red and blue Contender that had also been abandoned. It didn't take long for bullets to begin tearing the pickup to shreds, causing the Irishman to begin sprinting once more. He leapt into the alley landing in a roll. Ignoring the myriad of scrapes and bruises he came up in a crouch and quickly spun to face the direction he had just come from. The four remaining gunman were in a full sprint towards him riffles raised and at a ready. The Irishman held his stolen pistol in both hands and took a steadying breath before he began firing. Three of his six shots made contact with the lead pursuers. All struck him in the torso, two in the chest and one in the stomach. The man toppled to the ground blood gushing from the wounds. His companions returned fire without any hesitation prompting Lucky to turn tail and flee further into the alleyway. He mentally shuddered as he felt a bullet fly so close to his cheek that he could feel the heat.

His worst fear was realized when he came to the end of the alley to find nothing but an old dumpster and a solid brick wall. Cold fear gripped Lucky as the severity of his situation struck him fully. He was down to four bullets, trapped with nowhere to go, and had heavily armed lunatics right on his tail. Seeing nothing else for it Lucky dived behind the dumpster for what scant cover it would offer. If he was to go down by god he would do it fighting. _Fuck I've really got to start making smarter decisions. _Lucky thought grimly as the earsplitting shriek of machinegun fire once again filled the alleyway. The brick wall exploded in a shower of fragments, many of which caught Lucky; tearing into his flesh. The Irishman yelled in pain as several furrows were torn into his shoulders and back. They were minute wounds but still quite painful.

"We're going to fucking kill you boy." A voice called out hoarsely. "We're going to fucking rip your heart out."

"Yeah." A nasally voice agreed. "And eat it!"

Lucky wasted no time in a reply, doing his best to locate the second voice from sound he shoved his hand out over the top of the dumpster and blind fired. There was a yelp of pain and a reply in bullets which clanged loudly as they struck the dumpster. _Take that you bastards…. If I'm going to hell some of you will be coming along for the ride! _Lucky was preparing himself to dash out and fire his last two bullets, putting an end to all the shenanigans once and for all when he heard more gunfire and immediately distinguished a difference from the heavy bass boom of the Ak-47. There were cries and yells and more Ak-47 fire but it was all over in a few seconds. Lucky peeked cautiously over the top of the dumpster.

He saw that all of the black clad gunmen were dead and standing among their corpses was at least a dozen Jamaicans. Most of them were dreadlocked and they all were armed with a variety of weapons from micro-uzis, to Berettas 92. And MP-10s. As Lucky watched a few of the Jamaicans fell upon the bodies quickly stripping away their weapons in addition to stripping away their masks.

"Well who the bombocloth a them bwai yah?" One of the Jamaicans demanded stepping forward kicking one of the deceased in the head. Lucky noted that it was the same one he had saved earlier. It looked like he had just returned the favor.

"Pussyhole Italian them inno." One of the man's companions replied disdainfully as he straightened up clutching a recovered Ak-47. "Me a go recognize this one ya."

"Me shoulda a mi bombocloth know them pussyhole woulda try something like this inno." The other Jamaican replied. "Urry up and seize the machine thing them. We a go show them bwai seh dat when them a go violate the Bloodbath Posse then we a go violate them right back." Lucky figured that one to be some type of leader from his manner and the reactions of his fellows. Lucky decided that he had just about enough of cowering behind a dumpster. With a deep breath he straightened up and stepped into the open. One of the dreadlocked men spotted him and immediately sang out in alarm. Within a second he was staring down the barrels of twelve different weapons. Lucky winced knowing that the only reason he probably wasn't dead yet was that he had startled the men but he could see they were fast getting over it.

"Lead up the pussyhole." One of the Jamaicans called out. Lucky tensed himself to leap back behind the dumpster as he furiously berated himself for another dumb mistake.

"Hold on rudebwai!" The leader suddenly shouted out lowering his own handgun. "Me a go know this youth ya."

The Jamaican leader stepped forward towards Lucky with a broad grin as he absently waved off his soldiers. The Jamaican gangsters exchanged puzzled looks but grudgingly lowered their weapons. Lucky took the opportunity to observe the man intently for the first time. He was a full head shorter than Lucky's six foot one. Like his brethrens his hair was dusky, a couple shades darker than most of them. Instead of dreadlocks he wore his kinky hair in twists. The man was also rather scrawny in built and had a skeleton wielding a bazooka tattooed on his right forearm. He was dressed in a banana yellow plain t-shirt under a green combat jacket sporting the Zip logo. He also wore black cargo pants and green Hinterland boots. A fresh cut on his chin steadily dripped blood, Lucky assumed it was from when the gunman he had killed had tackled him and brought him heavily to the ground.

"Righteous shooting back deh youth," The man said as he approached Lucky. The Irishman frowned in confusion understanding the man's words but still mostly unsure as to what he was actually saying. "Mad respect hea. Mi a go owe yo big fi the help."

Just then police sirens sounded not far in the distance causing everyone to start at the sound.

"We a go clear out now rudebwai," The Jamaican leader said hastily. "Wheneva yo got time come down come see mi da mi yard at Momma's Bar and Grill pon 25th Grooveman Ave. Mi a always got use fi a rudebwai like you inno. Jah bless."

With that he hastily followed his soldiers out of the alley. Lucky exited just in time to see a convoy of three black Peyotes, a green Voodoo, and the same red Huntley Sport quickly speed off down the road. Lucky desperately looked for a means to secure his own escape as the wail of the siren grew even louder. He had just decided that his best bet was to commodore one of the abandoned vehicles still lying around when a white Patriot came screeching around the corner. Without even slowing down it headed straight towards him slamming aside a pink Virgo and mowing right over a beige Buccaneer in a racket of shattering class and screeching metal. Lucky leapt back with a yelp as the monster vehicle came slamming right into the rear end of the red Contender he had just been about to borrow. The car flew forward and slammed into the side of the yellow Voodoo that he had leapt over earlier in his best effort to keep from getting killed.

The Irishman raised his gun and prepared to fire the last of his bullets when the passenger side window rolled down, a voice shouted him down before he could pull the trigger however.

"Get in here you bastard!" Finnegan 'Finn' McDuncan bellowed out at his nephew with a glare. "For Christ's sake hurry! The fuzz will be all over us in just a few seconds."

The backdoor flew open and that was all the invitation Lucky needed. He flung himself into the Patriot. He had barely closed the door behind him when the machine roared forward with enough noise to wake the dead. Lucky could see from the back window that three police Enforcers had just rounded the same corner that his uncle's Patriot had.

"Hold on boys!" The driver announced. "Things are about to get real rocky."

Lucky braced himself as the Patriot heavily impacted another car in its bid for escape. They shot down the street with the Enforcers whooping right on their tail. Lucky was suddenly jostled to the side as the jeep turned violently down a side street and clipped the back of a Mule before careening down the sidewalk crushing three people with sickening crunches.

"Of all the fucking places you go fucking around in Little Kingston." Finn fumed as they barreled down another street. "What the fuck boy. Are you stupid?"

"I didn't have that much of a choice." Lucky snarled in reply. "Its hard to choose a nice destination to escape to when the fucking cops are chasing you!" The Patriot bent another violent curved which caused him to slam into the door with a grunt.

"Why the fuck would the cops be chasing ye?" Finn asked as they ran over a screaming man and knocked over a couple of trashcans. "Wait don't tell me. All that ruckus at the airport was you? You like to arrive with a bang don't you my boy." Finn chuckled.

"Not all of it." Lucky admitted as he managed to brace himself against another sharp turn. "It was some sort of terrorist attack. I just took the opportunity to put down an FIB bastard who thought he had bigger balls than King Kong."

"Gutsy," The man beside Lucky whistled as Finn laughed raucously. "Fucking around with the FIB like that. I have no love for the pigs myself but I ain't about to go around to knocking off FIB members."

Lucky gave him a once over as the Patriot forced its way between a Trashmaster and a Pizza This Pony. He was a portly middle aged man; Lucky would put him anywhere from forty five to fifty five. He had fiery red hair with streaks of gray running through it at infrequent intervals. His face was so freckled that it was hard to tell when the freckles stopped and the face began. He observed Lucky in turn through keen eyes as green as Lucky's own.

"Lando Murphy," Finn said by ways of introduction. "Lando, my nephew I've been speaking about."

"Please to meet you." Lando said holding out a hand. He and Lucky briefly traded grips. "I knew your father well. We fought at Belfast together. He was a good man. God rest his soul."

Lucky nodded at that but said nothing, anguish making him unable to speak as it always did at the thought of his father's murder. It had been almost four years ago but the pain had yet to dull.

"Wally Walsh." Finn then said waving a hand towards the driver. The man merely grunted noncommittally and slowed the car from the breakneck speed into something just only a little over the speed limit. The sounds of sirens were now faded.

"I think we're out of their radius." Wally informed them as he fiddled with the radio. From the back side profile Lucky could see that he was too was brown haired but his complexion was rather dark for an Irishman, he was almost brown. There was a grinning green leprechaun tattooed on the side of his neck as well.

"Take us back to the Shamrock." Finn ordered. The jeep skittered to a halt, and then in a complete u-turn that earned them quite an amount of abuse from fellow motorist they were heading in the complete opposite direction. They drove in silence for a full thirty minutes before they began slowing down. A look through the window showed Lucky that they were in a completely different part of town. They seem to be in some sort of business district. Tall office buildings were frequent as were shops, cafes, restaurants and the like. The class of people bustling up and down the sidewalks changed as well. Businessmen in their three piece suits hurried along briefcase in one hand and mobile phones held firmly to their ears. Women in the heights of fashion pranced around their arms laden with bags sporting logos such as Gnocchi, Didier Sachs, and Le Chien.

The Patriot pulled to a stop before a building that stood out like a straight guy in the middle of Queens San Fernando. It was small squat two storey brick building painted a bright vivid green in stark contrast to every other building in sight. A large shamrock was graffiti unto the wall in a deeper shade of green than the rest of the building's paint. The entrance was a solid looking steel door and all the windows were shuttered over with iron grills. A couple of tough looking men were milling around the front of the place, smoking and conversing. Wally brought the car to a stop in the last available parking place, right in between a red Turismo and a green Bobcat, and killed the engine.

"Welcome to the Shamrock laddie." Finn said with a roguish grin as he exited the vehicle. Lando and Wally followed without a word. Lucky remained for a few seconds longer taking deep breaths before he exited the Patriot as well. The only question that ran through his head as he followed his kinfolk into the building was _what was going to happen next. _


	3. 3 Ye Ole Fisticuffs

Ye Ole Fisticuffs

The Shamrock was a gym. A respectable gym at that too. The interior was all of brown hardwood. The floor, the walls, and the ceiling. Wall hangings bearing the three leave clover decorated the spacious room, as did portraits of famous Irish names. Two doors and one staircase lead from the wide room in addition to the entrance. One of the doors was labeled _restroom_ and the other was marked as _equipment_. There was also a large juice bar complete with racks of beverages attached to the wall behind it as well as a black refrigerator. Coincidently all the beverages on the shelves appeared to be alcoholic. To one corner a dozen exercise bikes were neatly arranged one beside the other. Beside that arrangement was a lineup of ten treadmills. The opposite side was completely dedicated to weight training. There were five weight training benches, each with a rack beside it bearing various different size weights. There were also as many dumbbells, several weight bars of different sizes, and even a few skipping ropes. Further from the weight equipment two ragged well used punching bags were tethered to the roof by rusty iron chains. In the center of the room was an actual boxing ring. Two men went at it in the center.

Lucky took slow steps looking around trying to take in everything while his uncle, Wally, and Lando went straight to the equipment room. Besides the two men sparring in the ring there were four other men present. One of them was hard at work at a weight bench while his companion waited to spot him, another stood by the ring keenly observing at the intense battle, and the last sat at the bar idly flipping through a magazine.

Lucky stopped and frowned at the man by the bar. There was something about him which tugged at Lucky's memory. As if feeling Lucky's eyes on him the man looked up. He grinned and rose to his feet revealing that he was just Lucky's height give or take a few inches, though he was much more slender. Indeed next to Lucky's chiseled musculature the man was quite scrawny. His auburn hair was shaggy and unkempt; it fell in unruly curls almost to his shoulders. Cobalt blue eyes shone out from behind black horn-rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a maroon and white letterman jacket, a pair of red jeans, and white Eris Kombatt sneakers. A gold shamrock medallion hung on a silver chain at his neck. He stared at Lucky for a long moment as Lucky sized him up. Then it came to Lucky in a rush.

"Len?" Lucky blurted out. "Lenard! Well I'll be damned."

Lenard 'Len' McDuncan absently dropped the magazine on the bar counter then he hurried over and gave his cousin a crushing bear hug.

"The prodigal son appears at last." Len laughed rising Lucky up a little off the ground. "Good to see you cousin! Good to see you!"

"And you," Lucky replied with a wide smile of his own as he was set back down. "Jesus Christ. What was I? Like eight years old?"

"Aye." Len agreed. "Twas when we left the motherland."

"Seem to have done well for yourselves over here too." Lucky said waving a hand towards the surrounding. Len merely snorted and shook his head.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Len went on to say. "But what exactly are you fucking doing here? I didn't even believe pa when he said that you was coming. How long are you here to stay?"

"I haven't a clue myself," Lucky replied with a shrug. "Or when I'm leaving. Uncle just called for me and told me that things weren't going well over here and that he wanted me to come over. Lend a hand. Guess I'm here to stay until the job gets done. Maybe I might even stay for good. Pa use to say that any strong Irish man could conquer this land."

Lucky thought about what all he had seen of Windpoint so far and compared it to Polski. Sure that Windpoint was an extremely dangerous place to live from what he had seen so far but even on its worst day it was a sight better than Polski.

"Why does uncle need my help anyway?" Lucky asked after a second.

"I don't know," Len replied with a shake of his head. "I don't get down in the traditional family business."

Lucky looked at him uncomprehendingly which caused Len to laugh. Len ran a hand through his shaggy mane and winked at his cousin.

"I don't rob, kill, extort, or otherwise hurt people. I don't sell drugs. I don't pimp women. I don't steal cars."Len said in a cheery voice.

"So…. what do you do?" Lucky asked still highly confused.

"I go to the University of Windpoint and major in Criminal Justice." Len said cheerily. "And I play football. Someone needs to show you all that your fortune can be made inside the boundaries of the law as well."

"Yeah cousin whatever you say," Lucky grunted. "How's your sister and the twins?"

"Heather is doing fine," Len replied referring to his sister. "She lives up in Liberty City now. Runs a little diner down in Broker. Love to visit her over there; she only hires the prettiest girls as waitresses. Good business strategy. Place is a moneymaker."

Lucky grinned at that. At twenty eight Heather was the oldest of his cousins and also the one he was closest to. She had made it a point to keep in touch when she along with the rest of her family had immigrated to the states. She had even periodically sent him gifts which had made his childhood bearable if not exactly pleasant. He was glad to hear that she was doing okay. In his mind nobody deserved it more.

"And Al?" Lucky went on to ask referring to one of his two older twin cousins. His memory of Al was rather sketchy but he seemed to recall him as a solemn bucktoothed boy who read a lot. Lucky wondered what type of man Al had grown up to be.

"Donald," Len said dryly, he made it a point to emphasize his brother's proper name. "Is getting his salad toss in prison. Come to think of it he should be getting out any day now; his release's in the process of being filed. Getting out early on good behavior."

"He's in jail?" Lucky repeated shocked. "What for?" Al being imprisoned was the last thing Lucky had expected. Len's eyes hardened and his face took on a cold look as he answered.

"He pulled a job with two lads we all thought was straight up and trustworthy. Long and short is that things went sour and they all got pulled in. Turns out the bastard weren't as trustworthy as we would have thought. The pair struck up a deal, managed to get out of serving hard time by turning state on Al."

Lucky's eyes blazed too as he heard that and he clenched his fists in anger. Murder was in his heart and mind. Whoever had so blatantly and outrageously betrayed his cousin would pay dearly, that he swore. Len correctly recognizing the look on his face hastened to add.

"We got them good though, don't worry. Well one of them at least. They told me the little shit squealed like a pig when they cut out his fucking tongue and slit his throat. I don't approve of all this bullshit of course but I think he deserved his faith."

"And the other?" Lucky demanded. Len eyes shifted restlessly and he ran a hand slowly through his shaggy mane.

"I don't know the full of it," Len admitted. "But from what I've heard pop doesn't plan on paying him back. I heard pop talking to old man Wally about it. Looks like the little bastard is a cousin of the McDoyles."

"Fuck's that got to do with anything?" Lucky asked exasperated and confused.

"I forgot that you're new." Len said slapping himself on the forehead. "Listen cousin I'm not the best person to talk to about this sort of thing. You should ask pa. But my understanding is that the McDoyles are a lead family of the Garden Street Gang. They're kinda like us except much more powerful I guess. Pop also said that they are one of our few allies, he can't risk alienating them by killing one of their blood."

"So we just let it lay?" Lucky asked incredulously. He simply could not believe this stroke of cowardice on the part of his uncle. The man's son had been betrayed and imprisoned and yet Uncle Finn was prepared to just leave the rat that caused it alone because he didn't want problems with the betrayer's family? It was unbelievable. It was _stupid_.

"I guess," Len replied hesitantly. "But what's too it? It isn't as if though Al's serving life or something like that. He managed to get ten years instead of the fifteen to twenty that the state was trying to slap him with. Even that was reduced to eight and now he's walking after only five. We had a damn good lawyer, brought her in straight from Liberty City. She's expensive as fuck but she knows her stuff that Kiki Jenkins. Not too bad on the eyes either."

Lucky blinked in surprise at Len's word. But he kept his true feelings to himself with great difficulty. He did not want to risk insulting his cousin and uncle even though he thought they sorely deserved it for their open cowardice.

"And Tony?" Lucky asked after a pause. Tony was Al's twin brother; the wilder of the two as Lucky remember it. He remembered that the first tooth he had knocked out had been because he was following Tony on a tree climbing adventure.

"He's getting his ass kicked right behind you." Len snorted before nodding towards the ring. Lucky turned and again observed the two shirtless men who were going toe to toe. Lucky noted with approval that they went at it bare fist. That was real fighting; none of that soft wish-wash padded and glove nonsense. One of the men was a strapping sandy haired brown eyed man who was taller than Lucky by almost a head and a half. He had a set of the finest shoulders Lucky had ever seen and arms like construction derricks. His body sported equal amounts of tattoos and scars. His face was severely bruised and his right eye was closed shut. Lucky switched his attention to that man's opponent. After a few seconds of observation he blinked several times in astonishment. His cousin was almost unrecognizable. No longer was he the chubby pimpled youth that Lucky remembered. What Lucky saw instead was man, roughly Lucky's height give or take a couple inches. However Tony had heavier shoulders and a body that looked as it were cut out of granite. There simply wasn't an inch of fat on the man and his abs looked like something taking straight out of a bodybuilder's magazine. He shared Len's auburn hair but Tony's was cropped short, almost a buzz cut. Besides that he sported a five o clock shadow that only added to his manly appeal. Lucky noted that his rather lengthy nose was severely crooked, hinting that it had been broken on more than one occasions. His face showed a large purple welt on the right cheek and a nasty cut beneath the left eye. Tony's brown eyes were furrowed in concentration as he danced forward to exchange a flurry of blows with his bigger opponent.

Contrary to Len's word the McDuncan twin was definitely winning. His movements were smooth, almost graceful, as he ducked under the bigger man's powerful blows before landing a few strong ones himself. In just a few more seconds Tony's opponent was gasping and wheezing on his knees holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender. Tony McDuncan grinned as the three men standing at the base of the ring cheered him, it was then that he turned and finally spotted Len and Lucky. His eyes widened almost comically before he began laughing.

"I'll be damned," He boomed out. "Look who finally reached! Baby Conner! Not a baby anymore looks to me."

Lucky smiled weakly, unable to decide how to respond to his cousin's word. Tony however pressed on.

"I remember you when you was a snot nosed little brat who use to wet himself at every fright." Tony chortled causing the other men in the room to laugh raucously. At that Lucky's smile fell off completely and a very ugly look came unto his face. If there were two things Lucky couldn't stand it was being disrespected and having people laugh at him. Family or no family Tony was way out of line. But where the look on Lucky's face would have dissuaded any other sane individual it only goaded Tony on.

"Ha you look constipated kiddo. Must be too much boogers. I remember you had a thing for them when we were younger."

The onlookers howled in mirth at that. Even Len chuckled a little beside him. Lucky had had enough.

"Fuck you." He snarled. All happiness he had had upon seeing his cousin disappeared. The image of the gun tucked into the back of his jeans blazed in his mind like a beacon. Images of taking the gun and plugging the disrespectful bastard full of holes soon followed. His hand was halfway there before he remembered the piece was out of bullets.

"Oooo," Tony said mockingly. "You seem mad. Did I hurt your wittle feelings cousin?"

"Take it out in the ring." One of the onlookers suggested. He was met with immediate yells of support and encouragement from the other men in the gym and Tony's defeated opponent who had now climbed out of the ring and was leaning against it.

"In fact that's a great idea little Connor." Tony agreed eagerly nodding his head. "Come show your big cousin what you're made of. Unless you're a little bitch that is."

"Don't do it." Len hastily muttered grabbing his cousin's arm. "The bastard is good. He's an asshole of a brother and a mean drunk but he knows his stuff."

Lucky shrugged Len off and made his way towards the ring amidst a clamor of cheering and clapping.

"Yes cousin," Tony grinned making the come hither motion with his hand. "Let's see if you're a proper Irish man."

Lucky climbed into the ring and stripped off his shirt. He was still angry yes but he was not stupid. He knew that he had just bitten off more than he could chew. He was no fighting man. At least not in the manner of Tony. He was in great shape yes, and his father like any Irish father worth his salt had taught Lucky how to fight with the fists. But those lessons had been long ago and fist fighting was not something he practiced regularly. Tony was obviously a league ahead. They were two things that were to his advantage, Lucky decided as he lifted his clenched fist high enough to guard his face and cautiously stalked forward. The first was that fresh out of a fight Tony must still be exhausted and hurting; he couldn't be at his full potential. The second was that this close he could smell the strong liquor on his cousin's breathe. If he was inebriated he would not be able to fight with a clear head. Confidence trickled back into Lucky and smiled a little bit. Perhaps there was hope yet.

Lucky increased his pace and came in quick with a left cross aimed for Tony's side. It met only air. He saw the fist a second too late to do anything but grunt in pain as it crashed into the side of his face completely twisting his head. Lucky staggered back tasting blood and seeing stars. Over the loud ringing in his ears he could hear as if from far off shouts and laughter. A solid blow to the stomach simultaneously brought him back to earth and winded him. Tony aimed another heavy punch to his face but this time Lucky managed to dodge under it. Lucky spat the blood that had welled up in his mouth to the ground and lunged forward. A right then a left. Both aimed for Tony's face. Like a mongoose Tony bobbed under one and weaved under the next. The older McDuncan retaliated with a hook to his cousin's stomach once more. He rolled into the punch, putting behind it all the force of his massive shoulder. It landed with a nasty thud and left Lucky almost doubled over in agony. Tony leant back to give himself some room and then he struck his cousin direct on the chin with a straight right. The younger man went down with an 'oomf' sound.

It didn't take Lucky long to get back on his feet. Instead of taking advantage his cousin danced back giving him space. Lucky was already feeling groggy and nauseas. The body shots had really done their damage and the side of his face where he had been punched throbbed horribly. Common sense urged him to stop but his blood was up so as far as he was concern common sense could go to the devil. Lucky ran in throwing an overhand right and a left hook to the body simultaneously. The right was blocked by Tony's meaty forearm but the left connected. For all the good that it did. The punch didn't even faze the older McDuncan; he brushed it off as if it were a mosquito sting. Stepping in Tony launched a vicious flurry. The first punch Lucky managed to block but the three others made it through his guard. He staggered back a step as a punch connected with his right cheek and his knees buckled when another clipped the left side of his chin. In the next second Lucky was flat on his back blinking up at the ceiling. The third punch had taken him directly on the underneath of the chin in a monstrous uppercut that knocked him clean off his feet.

Once more from a far off place Lucky could hear a din of noises. He paid them no mind and struggled to his feet.

"You're a right hard bastard you know that," Tony laughed jumping from one foot to the next in classic boxer fashion. "Stay down."

Lucky ignored him and the two once more met at the center of the ring. A vicious right hand to the side took Lucky's wind away once more and another punch to the side of the face almost put him back on the floor. But on pure willpower Lucky remained on his feet throwing his punches with everything he had, which admittedly at this point wasn't much. He finally managed to give his older cousin a hard one directly in the mouth but Tony retaliated with a vicious punch which almost twisted Lucky's head a full one sixty degrees. He staggered forward throwing another right but it was a clumsy blow and Tony had no trouble ducking underneath it. The twin then caught Lucky around the middle and lifted him up in a crushing bear hug.

"Aye a proper Irishman you are alright." He bellowed out with a laugh. "By god I don't even think death would have stopped the bastard! You seen the way he kept on getting back up for more? Now that's balls! Welcome cousin welcome!"

He spun Lucky around in a circle before setting him back down beaming wildly. Lucky smiled uncertainly in return, all his anger forgotten.

"No hard feelings eh boyo?" Tony said slapping Lucky so hard on his sweaty back that the man winced. "You're a good fighter. You move well and you can take a punch with the best of them. But its obvious you're out of practice. Stick around and we'll quick change that."

Lucky just gave another brief smile and a nod not trusting himself to speak as nausea still clawed at his belly.

"I think pop wants you," Tony said suddenly and nodded towards the bar. Lucky looked up and saw his uncle seated there watching them intently and holding a glass of amber liquid in his hand. "Good to have you with us cousin." He slapped Lucky on the back once more before slipping out of the ring and heading for the restroom. Lucky exited the ring amidst a clamor of congratulations and cheers from Len and the onlookers. His path was momentarily blocked by Tony's first opponent. The man looked a tad bit better now that most of the sweat and blood was wiped from his face. This close Lucky could see that several of the tattoos on his chest and stomach centered around a trio of demonic looking bikers bearing a shotgun, a pistol, and a baseball bat respectively. A trail of smoke rose in the bikers' wake. Other tattoos depicted the words _Denizens of Destructions_ and _DDMC till death. _

"Larry Lemont," The man said with a grin offering Lucky his hand. "Friends call me Gunny."

Lucky took the man's hand and shook firmly, noting the rough calloused palm and scarred knuckles.

"Hell of a scrap there," Gunny remarked. "You've got some potential to you I can just see it. When you've got time come on down to the Lemont Motors. It's my auto yard. 121 Queen Street, Corville. Can't miss it. I think we can be of use to each other." Gunny gave Lucky a squeeze on the shoulder then he headed towards the exit. Lucky filed what he had just been told to the back of his mind as he continued towards his uncle. Seems he was making friends left and right lately.

"You look like shit." Finn said dryly as his nephew took the barstool beside his. "Here drink some Logger. It'll grow some hair on your nuts."

Lucky didn't particularly care to grow hair on his genitals but he was thirsty. He took his uncle's offered cup and drained it in a single gulp. The bitter liquid burnt the cuts in his mouth fiercely but Lucky ignored the pain. He stared at the side of his uncle's face intently, only now realizing how much his Uncle Finn had changed. Gone was the strong upright man he remembered. He now looked old. Old and worn. His auburn hair that he wore in a crew cut was streaked with silver. The shoulders that had always been so proud before now drooped as if wearied by the cares of the world. A large gut had replaced a once chiseled abdomen the rival of Lucky's own. His skin was wrinkled and his blue eyes held a hint of longstanding exhaustion. But they also still radiated fire. Finn turned and observed his nephew as intently as the younger man observed him. He finally broke the silence.

"You've grown." He commented. "Spitting image of your father you are. He was a good man. I miss him every day."

Lucky made no reply to that. Finn sighed and rubbed his creased forehead with his hand as he continued.

"I wish he was still here. He was always the smart one, my little brother. I know that if we had had his help we wouldn't be up the creek as we have been for the past five years."

"What do you mean?" Lucky asked slowly.

"We're floundering kid," Finn answered through gritted teeth. "We're barely keeping our head above the water. We've never been that powerful mind you, just too much others who are stronger and better connected, but we've always been a force. Not anymore." He ended the last with a derisive snort. Finn slipped a pack of Redwood cigarettes out of his pants pocket and put one to his mouth. From the next pocket he took a silver plated lighter and lit the cigar. The McDuncan patriot took a few pulls, releasing fragranced smoke with every exhale.

"Why are we floundering?" Lucky enquired.

"Bunch of reasons," Finn answered tonelessly. "It all started when the fuzz busted a dozen of my best boys in o nine. Strong upstanding lads all of them, none of them afraid to do what needed doing. Ten of them went down fighting and dragged a shitload of pigs to hell with them. The two that survived are on deathrow."

Lucky shook his head sympathetically. In his mind he praised the men who had died fighting. They were warriors worthy of respect. That was the why he would want to go down, a gun in his hand and several dead enemies at his feet.

"Their lost hit us hard," Finn continued. "And others knew it as well. It was like the domino that started it all. Before you could blink all sorts of bastards begins to muscle in on our territory. The Pavonos, the Vercettis, the Tribe, the fucking Angels of Death, are just a few." Finn's hand trembled and his voice thickened from pent up emotion. "Saying we've lost a lot of ground is putting it mildly. The gang is on the brink of complete destruction."

"Don't we have friends?" Lucky demanded desperately. "People that will stand by us?"

"Of course we have allies," Finn said with a bitter laugh. "Old man Gilliano and his crew has always supported us. Most of the other Irish sects support us too as well as some others. Our allies are few enough however, and they all have their own struggles. Besides they're only there to support us, we can't ask them to fight our war."

Lucky digested that as he scowled into the empty glass. He finally asked the question that was nagging in his head.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I know that you've been continuing the fight in Ireland," Finn said after giving his nephew a long level look. "But you've got to accept the reality kid. The cause is over. Its done. Our people have grown content with eating out the hands of the English bastards. If they're happy with their lot they no longer deserve our help."

Deep down Lucky agreed with what his uncle had said. He remembered back in Ireland, the evidence of it had become glaring obvious in Polski. Bombings and attacks carried out by him and the other lads upon the English assets were no longer met with cheers and praises but with curses and muttering. No longer were Lucky and his friend met with admiration upon the streets but with suspicion and contempt. The IRA were no longer the heroes of ages pass. In the eyes of a people that had simply grown tired of resisting they were nothing better than hoodlums and terrorists.

"Do not blame them," said Finn sympathetically. "They are simply tired of the bloodshed. They now see the price of true freedom and are afraid to pay it. We can do nothing but leave them be. Your place is here now." He leaned in eagerly his eyes shining. "I want you to join the Shamrock Gang. Work alongside me and your cousin to take back our own and maybe even a little interest. We need your help Connor."

Lucky's answer was out of his lips before he had even thought about it. He knew that even had he given it thought his answer would be the same. His family needed him, there was only one thing any true man could do in that situation.

"I'll be glad to give it uncle." He replied solemnly.

"Excellent my boy excellent." Finn McDuncan said with a belly laugh. He rose from his stool and made his way behind the bar where he withdrew two more bottles of Logger Beer from the fridge. After opening both he tossed one of the beers over to his kin.

"Cheers my lad." He toasted. "It'll be a long deadly path no doubt but at the end of it I intend for the Shamrock Gang to be on top! Along the way I plan to make us all rich men." With that Finn raised the bottle to his mouth and downed the contents. With a grin of excitement Lucky followed his example. For the first time since he had arrived he felt at ease. Now he had a true purpose and he planned to accomplish it no matter what. It was him and his family vs the world and in Lucky's mind as soon as Connor McDuncan had entered the fight the world was overmatched.


	4. 4 Brawling Madness

**((I wrote this chapter as just one of those aimless jaunts of mindless debauchery that everyone who has ever played the game eventually ends up doing. Its what makes GTA so damn fun in my opinion. :D. I'll be having chapters similar to this periodically as a sort of interim between the main story both to give the story a more GTA atmosphere and because they're just o so fun to write. Yay! I'd also like to thank Stelm for providing my very first review. I'm glad to know that at least one person is enjoying it. xD. And sorry the upload took so long, distraction overload lately because I recently got the whole collection of Kim Harrison the Hollows and has been steadily reading my way through it, one of the greatest series ever. Anyway, enough rambling. Here we are.))**

Lucky awoke with a start. He sat at up quickly and panic briefly engulfed him as he noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a room that was definitely not his own. It was by far much nicer. The walls were covered in a vivid purple and pink flowers wallpaper. The carpeting on the floor was also of a matching purple hue. A ceiling fan spun lazily above. Besides the very comfortable queen sized bed he was now reclining in, other furnishings in the room included a handsome wardrobe made of polished black metal and a matching dresser. On top of the dresser was a rather old TV set. Various posters were pinned up in a rather mismatched fashion. One was of a young strikingly pretty brown haired woman posing lewdly in a skimpy pink bathing, Lucky recognized her as starlet Cloe Parker. Another poster depicted pop singer Samantha Muldoon in a white evening gown holding a glass of wine and beaming brightly.

Lucky made to get off the bed only then noticing that there was a little nightstand to the right made of the same black metal as the wardrobe and dresser. On the top of the nightstand a picture was taped. Lucky stared down at the picture curiously. A wispy mousy haired woman with an infectious smile hugged a younger happier version of his uncle with a full head of thick auburn hair close. Standing in front of the happy couple was a pretty brown haired little girl who couldn't be more than twelve. Two chubby auburn hair twin boys around the age of eight hung on tightly to either one of the little girl's hands. A little boy who was even younger stood in the forefront before them all looking up with solemn eyes at the camera. Lucky grinned down at the family, the only family he had left besides a mean old deaf grandfather back in Polski, and felt an overwhelming sense of pride and affection. The Irishman spent a few more seconds in silent reflection before rising from the bed and making towards the door.

He paused briefly upon catching sight of his reflection in the mirror however. _Is this me? _He thought alarmed. Lucky's normally well groomed hair stuck up all over the place and his face was already showing a nasty stubble. His body was greasy from all the dried sweat of the previous day and now that he was actually paying attention _he smelt like a frigging pig sty. _Besides that he was still in the same clothing that he had stepped off the plane with. A flannel shirt that was now torn and filthy, and stonewashed blue jeans that were equally grimy. His black Hinterland boots lay at the door where he had kicked them off the night before. Lucky knew that he was in desperate need of serious personal hygiene. His brows furrowed in annoyance when he remembered that his bags were in the airport and for all intents and purposes permanently out of reach. It meant that he would have to buy new clothing and until then he would have to keep on looking like a hobo. With a shrug the Irishman exited the room and found himself in a rather grubby kitchen. The tiles on the floor were chipped and dirty and plywood walls were streaked with black. A cabinet hung on the wall right beside the door to the bedroom Lucky had just exited. The white paint was peeling and its door hung open in an almost forlorn manner revealing a few packs of CJ's Fishy Fingers and a large box of Cok O Pops breakfast cereal. A battered radio sat atop the cabinet playing a catchy jingle about Bloodaway tampons. There was also a small stained metal table and three chairs, a wood counter with a scarred and marked surface, an overflowing trash bin complete with flies, a black refrigerator, and a matching black stove.

Suddenly feeling the gnawing of hunger Lucky walked over to the fridge and pulled it open as the jingle on the radio faded away and was replaced with the opening theme song of the morning news. Lucky frowned at the contents of the refrigerator. It was crammed to bursting with liquor; Pissh, Logger, and Rockstar Edinburgh Whiskey as well as some other brands Lucky didn't recognize. There was also the occasional Sprunk and eCola. Besides the myriad of beverages there was only a box of pizza from the Well Stacked Pizza Co with only two slices left both of which were covered in fuzzy fungus, a large cartoon of Knockers Milk, and a Styrofoam container housing a dried up tough looking and very greasy steak. Seeing nothing else for it Lucky withdrew the milk and closed the door. He began rummaging in the cabinet below the counter as an excited female news reporter spoke rapidly over the radio.

….._Following the terrorist attack at the Yartman International Airport which left ten dead and twenty five wounded that we reported on yesterday evening, the airport has officially been closed until further notice. This in addition with the closing of the bridges due to the Cock Flu Pandemic has effectively cordoned off the city of Windpoint from the rest of the state, and indeed the rest of the world….._

Lucky came back up with a chipped dusty pewter bowl. He ran some water over it from the sink as he considered the news report. It seems the choice to do anything other than what he had decided to do had just been stripped away. Like everybody else in the city he was stuck until either the airport reopen or the bridges. Lucky shrugged not caring which way as he sat the bowl on the table along with the milk. He retrieved the box of Cok O Pops from the counter and with a flourish he poured a large portion of cereal in the bowl; followed by a generous amount of milk before seating himself at the table.

…_.In other news police chief James Fitzroy is once again slated to stand before a panel to answer to more accusations of extreme corruption and voluntary miscarriage of justice. This in addition with the rumors of Fitzroy's connection through his brother to the Washington Boyz street gang has left most of Windpoint City clamoring for his resignation…_

"Resignation?" Scoffed a voice from across the room prompting Lucky to quickly look up. Len entered the room with a disgruntled look on his face. He was wearing a red and white jersey over a white t shirt along with a red track pants and white Hi-tops. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he seemed to forgo the use of his glasses on this day. His chain was still in place however, and he wore a silver Crowex watch on the right wrist.

"Motherfucker should be hanged if you ask me." Len went on grumpily. He marched over to the cupboard that Lucky had just ransacked and he too withdrew a bowl as well as a spoon. Lucky shrugged realizing that he had forgotten a spoon. Improvising he put the bowl of cereal to his mouth and drained half of it in a long gulp.

"What makes you say that?" He asked curiously as Len poured himself some milk and Coc o Pops as well.

"Bastards one of the main reasons the city's so fucked up." Len answered vehemently taking a seat beside Lucky. He took a few spoonfuls of cereal before speaking again. "He's related to Big Dice, the leader of the Washington Boyz. It's one of the reasons why those black bastards are the most powerful gang in the city."

Lucky kept on eating as he thought that over. The police chief was a member of a local gang? Jesus that was beyond fucked up; and he had thought things were corrupted in Polski.

"So these Washington Boyz?" Lucky asked for clarification's sake. "They are strong?"

"Baddest motherfuckers around these parts." Len said angrily. "They may be niggers but not even the mafia envies their operation. They're the true player in this town. Everyone toes the line when it comes to them. Everyone's afraid."

Lucky raised the bowl of Cock o Pops to his mouth once more and drained the rest of the cereal in a long swallow.

"Fortunately for all the other hoodlums they keep their operations strictly on the West Side. Operate from Westwild Town. Leave all the other gangs to bicker among themselves for the remaining territory." Len ended by draining the rest of his breakfast cereal in a manner similar to Lucky. He smacked his lips and rose from the seat.

"Men those cocks are good." He said with a little laugh.

"Where is uncle and Tony?" Lucky asked only now noticing how quiet the house was except for them.

"Fuck should I know?" Len asked absentmindedly as brushed some imaginary dirt off his pants and fussed at his collar.

"Where are you going?" Lucky asked this time in alarm as he watched Len move towards the door.

"To get my dick wet." Len snapped in obvious irritation. "What the fuck is with you?"

"Fuck am _I_ suppose to do?" Lucky snarled.

"Get a shower and a change of clothes." Len said wrinkling his nose. He had only now notice his cousin's deplorable condition. "And a shave too. You look like someone just tossed you out the back of a truck going eighty miles an hour and then picked the truck up and hit you with it."

Lucky scowled but touched his itchy jowls self-consciously, knowing his cousin had a point. He did look horrible. He would need to change that ASAP.

"In fact here….." Len said reaching underneath his shirt and producing a respectable roll of cash. "Can't have my cousin running about looking like a bum's worst idea of a bum. All the clothing stores around here are a tad bit out of budget at the moment but you can still take this and run on down to the Binco. "

"Binco?" Lucky repeated uncertainly as his cousin peeled off a twenty and a five and dropped them on the table.

"Yeah closest one is right over in Wateredge." Len replied breathlessly. "Straight down the street, take a left then a right, then another left_"

"I don't know what the fuck, I just fucking got here!"

"_Then you catch the **Asshound** bus and stop off at the corner of Lester and Jerkz_"

"Len I don't have any fucking idea_"

"_And it'll be right beside the Burger Shot. Bit rundown looking. You can't miss it. I've got to go cuz. Running late. Take care! I'm a see you later."

Just like that Len was running through the door leaving Lucky in ten stages of bewilderment.

"Fuckhead." Lucky murmured to himself, shaking his head in disgust. He picked up the two bowls and rinsed them out in the dingy sink. After leaving them on the draining board Lucky made his way to the bathroom. Like the kitchen it was in need of serious cleaning but he was far from complaining. In thirty mins he was as clean as he was ever going to get and his jawline was free of any stubble. Putting on back the only clothes he had Lucky left the apartment and descended the staircase down to the gym.

Despite being fairly early in the morning, or maybe even because of it, the gym had a sizable crowd. A dozen and a half tough looking lads milled around, they went at it individually at the weights or congregated by the ring side where another fisticuff match was in place and roared and jeered loudly.

"Oi bucko, just climbed out of a garbage can?"One of them shouted at Lucky as he walked towards the door. The comment was met with loud derisive laughter. Lucky went from zero to a thousand in one second flat. If he was a dragon he would be breathing fire right then so angry he was. He fought the urge to stop and do murder. They may be assholes but these men were supposed to be on his side, killing them would serve no purpose but to get him in trouble. Also he _did _look like he had just climbed out of a trashcan and he had yet to earn their respect. That would change and soon Lucky vowed as he forced open the metal door and stepped out into the bright sunlight. Lucky waited for his eyes to adjust to the glare before walking over towards the sidewalk. He noted that the parking spaces for the gym were all empty this time. The streets were as busy as they were the day before; people still rushed up and down the sidewalk always late to reach wherever it is that was their destination. Cars zoomed down the street in a state no better honking their horns annoyingly at every slight chance. The murmur of conversation, the grumble of a hundred different engines, and a cacophony of other sounds such as jackhammers, music, and music all blended to form the song that Lucky had come to associate with civilization. A small smile touched Lucky's lips as began walking down the streets.

It took Lucky almost three and a half hours to track down the store so naturally when he stepped out of the Binco he was not in the cheeriest of moods. Lucky now wore a black T-shirt with a yellow 'R' that morphed into a star towards the end imprinted upon the front. Along with this went a pair of blue jeans, a blue **Windpoint Whitemeat** baseball cap, and a plain yellow band watch. He still wore the black Hinterland boots he had arrived in. All in all the getup had cost him a whooping eighty five dollars which meant that he had exactly fifteen dollars left to his name, not even enough to get properly drunk. Lucky grumbled as he walked. He would have to do something about money soon. He had absolutely no intentions of living in what was supposed to be the greatest country in the world as a pauper. Checking his watch he saw that it was just a little after twelve noon. Despite that this area didn't appear to be as extremely congested as the rest of the city would be right around this time. Lucky looked around and guess that could be attributed to the fact that it was a mostly residential neighborhood. In fact the Binco he had just exited and the closed Burger Shot beside it stood out a good deal from the row of nice middle class homes that lined the rest of the street. The only other people in sight were a construction crew repairing a portion of the road across the street, and a duo of old lady who gossiped freely as they walked along behind Lucky. Lucky slinked his hands into his pants pocket as he walked. His mind was a thousand miles way back in Polski. He wondered what the lads were up to. Probably still making mischief for the English dirt bags if he knew them. Lucky grinned at the thought. Now there were boys who wouldn't quit. He could imagine them fighting the Brits even in hell. A loud honking and the screech of tires brought Lucky abruptly back to earth. Startled he began to turn, but before he could do more than begin the motion something slammed into his side and tossed him a few feet away where he heavily connected with the floor.

The Irishman lay still for a few moments, more stunned and confused than hurt. What the fuck had just happened? That was the thought that reverberated over and over through his skull.

"My car!" A voice nearby screamed shrilly. "You sonofabitch my car!"

With a groan Lucky managed to sit up and turned his head ignoring the waves of pain. Luckily it didn't feel like anything was broken, bruised a plenty yes but no broken bones. That was something to be thankful for at least. He saw a pink Vapid Peyote half on the sidewalk with the engine still running, the grill of the vehicle was dented leaving little doubt as to what had hit Lucky.

"Goddamn it asshole this is my mom's!"

Lucky switched his attention to the woman who was hopping up and down in fury in front of the car. Still dazed from the impact he had failed to notice her originally. She was dressed in a pinstriped brown pants suit which fit her slim body perfectly. Her blond hair was pinned up highlighting a fine boned face. If it weren't for the death glare directed against Lucky in her eyes she would have been quite attractive.

"She'll fucking skin me when she finds out!" The woman kept on screaming her throat out at him. "Goddamn it asshole! What are you fucking blind?"

Lucky shakily rose to his feet as his senses gradually reoriented themselves. What the fuck was the woman crazy? She had just run unto the sidewalk and knocked him down and yet she was blaming him? What the hell was wrong with these Americans? Anger exploded within Lucky like a valve that had just been released. He glared right back at the woman as she took an unsteady step towards Lucky waving her hands angrily.

"I should call my boyfriend and have him kick your ass for this shit. You lousy no good two bit insignificant loser! This car you just damaged is worth more than you probably see in ten years! You_"

She would have undoubtedly said more but Lucky didn't wait to hear it. Five steps took him directly in front of her where he rammed his fist into her belly with all his might. She would have screamed had she any wind left in her lungs. As it was she could only release a hoarse gasp as her face went blue. But the angry Irishman was far from through. He seized the woman by the back of her head and furiously slammed her face first into the hood of the vehicle. He pulled her head back up and slammed her back again before finally leaving off. The rude woman slid down the hood of car out cold and leaving a long smear of blood.

"HEY!" Someone shouted from behind. "YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Lucky turned with a grunt seeing the two old women who had been walking along behind him. They were now hobbling towards him furiously. Lucky watched them in amusement wondering at what they planned to do. That is until one of them came within reach and smacked him across the head heavily with her walking stick. He lashed out back instinctively catching the woman a wicked punch direct to the nose which sent her crashing to the ground like a felled tree.

"Susie!" Screamed the other old woman. She took a swipe at Lucky with her own stick but the Irishman smoothly dodged underneath it and retaliated with an uppercut that sent her to the floor right beside her friend. She struggled to get up but Lucky's blood was up. He no longer saw old women. He saw enemies who once allowed to gain their feet would try to hurt him. Stepping forward he cruelly began to kick at the old woman's head. There was a nasty crack as one of his kicks connected with her neck instead, at once she stiffened then stilled. Turning to the other one he kicked her directly in the side of the head laying our out cold, perhaps never to awake again.

"Like hurting woman eh you little bitch?" A voice called from off to Lucky's side. He turned with his eyes blazing. The construction crew that had been working at the side of the street was sprinting directly towards him. Three big burly men all wearing yellow helmets. Two were in sweat stained wife beaters and the third was bare-chested. The foremost carried a shovel. A big beefy black man, he stepped in towards Lucky swinging with all his might. Lucky winced as he ducked under the swing and felt the whoosh of passing air. What would have happened to his head if that blow had connected he didn't like to think about. Pulling his clenched fist back Lucky socked the man in his throat with all might. The black man staggered back wheezing and gagging and clawing at his shattered windpipe. Lucky went to pick up the fallen shovel but before he could the other two construction workers were upon him like bulls. One of them struck Lucky so hard in the side of the head that for a second the Irishman saw stars. The other tackled him around the waist and tried to force him to the ground. Lucky braced his legs and managed to remain upright. Then with near herculean strength Lucky grasped the man around the middle and hurled him to the side and straight into the path of an incoming Buccaneer. The vehicle ran straight over the man with a nasty series of thumps and cracks, it left a broken mass of flesh and bone behind as it kept on driving not even slowing down.

"Kevin!" Screamed the worker who had punched Lucky. He rushed towards Lucky swinging his fist towards the Irishman's head again. Lucky blocked the heavy punch with his arm and struck him a straight blow to the jaw with his right. The worker stepped back a bit daze and Lucky pressed the advantage. He moved in releasing a hellfire barrage. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Left. Each punch connected with a heavy thud until the man finally slumped to the floor, his face an unrecognizable mass of blood and swelling. Lucky turned to the last construction worker, the one who was on his hands and knees desperately trying to catch his breath. He hauled his foot back and kicked at the man with all his might. The heavy Hinterland boot fractured the man's skull and sent him headfirst into hell.

Taking heavy breaths Lucky turned to leave but naturally it was just then that there was a screeching of tires followed by the heavy slamming of doors right behind him.

"Freeze dirtbag!" An authoritative voice shouted at him. "Don't even fucking breath!"

Lucky ignored the man and turned to face them. Cops of course. Two of them just stepping out of the black and white Enforcer. One of them was a big bear of a man, more fat than muscle. He had an iron gray mustache and piggy little eyes. His hair while still black had receded almost to the top of his head. He trailed a glock 22. Directly on Lucky and the Irishman could tell from the tremor in his hands that he was simply itching to pull the trigger. A younger blond and blue eyed man was standing on the driver's side of the car with a walkie-talkie in hand.

"Come in dispatch." The man called into it. "We've got a Code Star One over here. Suspect is detained."

Not waiting to listen anymore Lucky dashed off to the left keeping low. Something whizzed close by his ear which immediately preceded the crack of gunfire. He headed straight for the house and yard that was directly adjacent to him and the street, hoping to use the building for cover.

"We've got a runner!" He heard the fat man bellow. "Code Star Two! It's a Code Star Two!"

Bullets whizzed all around Lucky as he sprinted towards the house, managing to put it behind him and his pursuers. Lucky was met with a high wire fence and beyond that what looked like a dirty alley. Wasting no time he at once scaled the fence.

"Come on you bastard!" He heard the fat man yell followed by some huffing and wheezing. "By god I'll show you why they called me the Roo-slayer!"

Lucky dropped down into the alley and dashed forward heading towards the opening. Inspiration struck him and he suddenly stopped. Lucky began looking around desperately until he found something that would do in the form of a heavy brick. Without missing a beat the Irishman snatched up the makeshift weapon. The wire fence creaked as the fat man made his way over it. With a nasty grin Lucky hefted the brick and hurled it with all his might. It struck the officer directly at the back of the head just as he had tossed one leg over fence. With an ooaf the man fell over sideways and landed heavily on the ground. Lucky rushed forward and snatched up the gun from the man's slack grip. Not wasting anytime he aimed it downwards and pulled the trigger twice. His bullets obliterated the back of the officer's head in a shower of blood and fragments.

"CODE STAR THREE!" Shouted a voice from the other side of the fence, there was a hail of gunshots and a bullet grazed Lucky's arm causing him to grunt with pain. "OFFICER DOWN! CODE STAR THREE! HARV! MY GOD HARV!"

Lucky leveled his gun and shot through the wire fence as well. He squeezed off five shots and was rewarded with a squeal of pain. _Ha! That'll show the pigs! That'll learn them to fuck with an Irishman! _Lucky sprinted towards the alley mouth as quick as he could, his stolen gun still in his hand. It led him into a more busily populated street. He ran unto the road, directly into the path of a purple Voodoo. The drive screeched to a halt and began angrily sounding the horn. It was a fat man in a tight white shirt. Lucky casually raised his gun, aimed it at the man's head, and pulled the trigger twice. The unlucky driver only had a chance to widen his eyes before two neat holes were punched into his forehead causing him to slump backwards into his seat dead as a doornail.

At once the street erupted in chaos. Pedestrians screamed and scattered in every direction trying to avoid the gun totting maniac. Cars crashed into each other and mowed down people as drivers tried desperately to get away. Others abandoned their vehicles completely. Almost as if entranced Lucky took aim upon a man who was trying to run away and pulled the trigger once more, sending a round into the back of his head. Before that man had even collapsed to the ground Lucky had spun to aim the stolen weapon at a screaming and crying woman who in her shock was running towards him rather than away. It was almost as if Lucky had been taken over by some sadistic malignant higher power. He pulled the trigger twice more, sending the woman pummeling to the ground with a bullet in the throat and face. Gunfire whizzed near Lucky's face and he instinctively dropped low. Looking around he saw a group of three police man running towards him squeezing off bullets as they came. Lucky returned fire as he bolted towards the purple Voodoo. Throwing the door open he pulled out the dead body and jumped in, not a minute too soon as bullets pierced the door and would have pierced him had he still been standing there.

"Stop resisting and we might only cripple you!" One of the officers called in between gunshots. Lucky paid him no mind and gunned the car for all it was worth.

He flew down the street and a violent jerk of the wheel sent the vehicle careening down to the left. Sirens sounding from all directions as Lucky dodged around another Voodoo and a Peyote both of which seemed to be in as much hurry as he. Trying to get something to focus on he fumbled with the radio.

_This is DJ Dunskey bringing you Hype21.1 The realest radio station where we play only the realest tracks. Now here is the big man Weezy killing it on the track one more time. Lil Wayne featuring Corey Gunz, Six foot seven foot! Here we go! _

Lucky grinned. Lil Wayne was one of his favorite artists. He sent the vehicle dodging between a rusty Bobcat and a gold colored Escalade. It was then that he began hearing the thumping hum of a helicopter over the sounds of sirens. Lucky stomped the throttle, pushing the car to its very limit as he careened in and out of traffic. Bullets obviously fired from the helicopter kicked up all around him, a couple of them even piercing the back of the vehicle. The Irishman winced as he began hearing an ominous hissing coming from the Voodoo. Lucky turned down another street and his eyes widened comically at what awaited. The street was blocked off by two large Cruiser trucks stamped with the NOOSE logo. In front of the blockade were no less than five NOOSE agents each clutching an FN P90. It only took Lucky a fraction of a second to make his decision. He tossed himself against the door of the vehicle and managed to roll out. He gasped in pain as he connected heavily with the floor but managed to roll it off, dissipating some of his momentum. He gritted his teeth as both flesh and clothing tore from his journey over the hard unforgiving street. At once automatic fire resounding in the air. Lucky was only getting to his feet when he was knocked back down by a loud explosion as the car went up in flames, one of the bullets undoubtedly having made contact with the gas tank.

"You'll never take this Irishman you bastards!" Lucky bellowed as he unsteadily gained his feet once more.

Lucky lurched forward. Sprinting towards a large rather ratty three story apartment building that was only a few yards away. Gunfire came from all directions and another round grazed Lucky's back making him stagger forward. It was only by a miracle he wasn't mowed down.

"We'll fucking kill you you cocksucker!" He heard someone shout.

"No one kills cops in Windpoint and gets away with it." Another called.

Lucky reached the apartment building and slammed his shoulder against the door with all his might. It flew off the hinges with no hesitation. Continuing his sprint Lucky made his way up a creaky stairs and then another. Finally he tried the first door on the right which surprisingly was opened. He tossed himself into the room and collapsed with pain and exhaustion. Perhaps he just might have bitten off more than he could chew. This thought was resounded as a bullhorn enhanced voice sounded out.

_This is the WPCD. We have the building surrounded. There is no escape! Come out with your hands in the air and we promise to only put you in a wheelchair. _

Personally Lucky would rather death. Having caught his breath he pulled himself to his feet and looked around the dilapidated little apartment. There was a creaky looking sofa directly across from and a dusty old television set playing a rerun of what looked like **Badfellas**. Through an open doorway he could catch a glimpse of an old refrigerator and a cabinet. Two more doors led from the room.

_This is your last chance! If you don't come out then we will precede to a Code Star Four…_

He had to get out of here and now. Lucky took one step forward then leapt back in alarm as one of the doorways opened and a screaming naked man rushed out. His brown hair was matted and his body was glistening with sweat. The stink of sex and pot was almost strong enough to sicken. The naked man had a wickedly sharp looking combat knife in one hand and a wild insane look to his eyes.

"That's it!" He shouted. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of people getting on my case! I'll kill you!"

Lucky raised his gun and pulled the trigger only to have the worst thing the world happen. The thing that was every gunman's worst nightmare. The gun clicked empty. Horror clutched at Lucky and it was redoubled when the man slashed heavily at him with the knife. Lucky leapt back towards the television sending it crashing to the floor with a resounding din, the man's slash which would have eviscerated merely gave Lucky a deep gouge across the chest. It still hurt plenty enough to cause the Irishman to cry out in pain. The man came in with another roar but this time Lucky was ready. He kicked out with all his might, sending his heavy boot straight into the man's bared testicles with all his might. The man doubled over then went to his knees with a noise between a cry, a groan, and a screech. Lucky snatched up the dropped knife and with vindictive pleasure he sank it to the hilt in the back of the man's neck. He jerked two times then went still. Lucky pulled out the blade with a grunt of effort and ignored the spurt of blood.

"Kevin!" A voice sobbed from the room the maniac had just bolted from. The Irishman looked up so quick that he almost caught a crick in his neck. He saw a flash of movement. With a roar Lucky burst into the room intent on killing the bastard's accomplice as well. The sight that met him would have been comical in any other situation. He had entered a little bedroom that was in complete disarray, most of the disarray focused on the rickety looking bed. Above the bed was a little window, and a fat sweating black man as naked as the last was trying to force his way through the window. He was only being met with limited success. From outside Lucky could hear the sound of thumping feet and crashing door and shouts and screams of outrage. There was also the occasional sound of a gunshot. It seemed that the city finest had tired of waiting.

"Please don't kill me!" The fat man sobbed. "Oh god I don't want to die."

Lucky ran forward and gripping the knife tightly he jumped unto the bed and rammed it into the man's lower back. The fat man squealed like a struck pig. Seizing him by the shoulder Lucky jerked him backwards unto the bed and began stabbing him in the chest over and over again. The man twitched and jerked and tried to move but Lucky was relentless. The savage murder only took a few seconds and by its end Lucky was covered head to toe in blood and the fat man's torso was unrecognizable. Lucky knew he had to work fast. The pounding sounds of footsteps were getting louder. Stripping off his pants and shirt he rushed over to a clunky looking wardrobe. After doing the best to remove most of the blood Lucky crudely made a bandage for his chest from the recently purchased shirt. Lucky then tossed on a blue button down that was tight against the chest, and a pair of black jeans that didn't quite fit. The sounds of shouting and footsteps seem to be right outside now. Running back to the bed Lucky jumped upon it before reaching up and struggling through the window. He managed to pull himself through just as the apartment door was kicked open.

The Irishman fell the ten foot and landed on his feet with a grunt. He was exhausted beyond measure and hurt too. He wasn't sure how long he could keep on going. The answer to that came soon after. He would go on as long as he had to. They were not going to take him alive and he had every intention of living to a ripe old age, it meant that his only choice was to escape. Lucky straightened up and took stock of his surroundings. He saw that he was in a backyard of sorts. There was an emptied pool not far away and a couple of picnic tables haphazardly thrown around. All was enclosed by a seven foot high board fence. At once Lucky ran towards the fence. With labored breathing he scaled it and dropped down to the next side. Directly in front of a trio of Noose agents. For a split second there was complete stillness as both partied observed the other with shocked disbelieve. Then Lucky reacted. Like lighting he snatched the knife from where he had tucked it in his belt and slashed out, gouging the closest agent deeply across the throat. The man staggered back dropping his Remington 870 pump action shotgun to clasp at his streaming throat. Discarding his knife Lucky swooped forward and elegantly caught the weapon before it hit the ground. He straightened up back shooting for all he was worth.

His first blast completely obliterated the skull of the already mortally injured NOOSE operative. Whatever stupor that had fallen over the other two operatives was broken by the loud report of the shotgun. One of them raised his MP5 but Lucky was already ejecting the spent shell and pulling the trigger once more. The second blast took off that officer head as well; the man's body pulled the trigger on reflex before he went down twitching. The bullets went wild however and only struck concrete for which Lucky was eternally grateful. Lucky's relieve was short live for the last officer had closed in upon Lucky before the Irishman could level his gun; the NOOSE agent raised the butt of his FN-P90 and cruelly rammed it into the Irishman's side knocking the wind right out of him. The man backed up and Lucky went cold, knowing that he was about to be shot. In desperation he did the only thing he could do. He tossed his shotgun towards the officer. It served as the split second distraction Lucky needed to rush forward and grab the man's weapon and forcing it towards the sky. On reflex the man pulled the trigger releasing a full on barrage into the air. Lucky head butted the man in the face two times then slammed him in the jaw with his right fist before finally managing to wrestle away the weapon.

"You're dead." The man rasped out as he slumped against the wooden fence that Lucky had just come over. "You're never getting out_"

Lucky slammed the butt of the machine gun into the man's face shutting him up. He quickly brushed over the man finding three extra clips of ammunition. After reloading the machine gun he shouldered it then quickly retrieved the shotgun. A bit more pilfering gained Lucky a pocketful of shells and an extra Berretta pistol. The thumping hum of the helicopter once again drew near, Lucky decided not to wait for it.

He took off at a full run pushing himself beyond the limit. He found himself out on another larger sheet and had to stop in surprise. There abandoned in the middle of the street with the door still open was a sleek red Banshee, the engine still purring as if though calling to him. Lucky chose to interpret this as a sign of divine intervention. Without further ado he made a break for the vehicle. Bullets whizzed behind him followed by shouts. Lucky tossed his shotgun into the automobile before tossing himself. The radio was playing some sort of pop song with a lot of guitars and drums. Not even closing the door he stomped down on the gas. The car shot forward like a hound from hell. Lucky drove for all he was worth. He soon had a retinue of screeching Enforcers and NOOSE Patriots on his tail as well as a Maverick circling in the air above him.

"You'll never take me!" Lucky bellowed. "Never!"

He sent the car careening down a street to the right narrowly missing a Pizza This Burrito truck. Lucky turned into the round lane of traffic and began swerving and banking around the variety of cars. It was only the perfect handling of the beautiful machine which kept him from a head-on collision. A NOOSE Patriot bent down the lane and made straight towards him but a jerk of the wheel sent Lucky's banshee flying unto the sidewalk narrowly avoiding the menacing hulk of jeep. He mowed down three pedestrians, grimacing as one of them flew towards the windshield simultaneously cracking and bloodying it before sliding off the side. Driving along the sidewalk Lucky turned down another street and punched it once more, exhilarating at a breakneck place. Soon the sound of sirens began fading as did the sound of the helicopter. Neither could match the furious pace of the Banshee. Lucky kept the car at almost a 120 mph until the sounds of pursuit finally stopped completely. It was only then that he slowed down and began fiddling with the radio looking for a better station. A large grin touched his face as the reality sank in. He was free. He had made it.

**((Asshound-Parody of Greyhound bus. Windpoint Whitemeat-The baseball team of Windpoint. Coc o Pops-Rockstar breakfast cereal, parody of Kelloggs. The scene where Lucky killed the two homosexuals is actually something that happened in my neighborhood, where this burglar had broken into the house of a homosexual couple and they caught him there and thinking that he was just an antigay persecuting them some more they attacked him, however the burglar cut them up somewhat fierce killing one and severely hurting the other. Again I'm sorry update took so long, shall be faster on the other. In the next chapter is where the story really starts to get twisted as well. Anyway as always read. Review. Enjoy. :D)) **


	5. 5 Liberty's Finest

**(First True mission as is. A short but rather interesting one too if I don't say so myself. ;p. Just a few more notes I thought I would mention. The theme song for this as a GTA game would be the instrumental to Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5. For some reason I just feel that that song fits perfectly. Also I want it noted that Lucky does have military training of sorts. It has already been mentioned that he was trained by his father who was an IRA soldier during the Troubles from a young age and then has spent the majority of his life up until the fanfic takes place as a soldier of the IRA himself. That's an issue I've had with some Rockstar games, it just really gets to me how some of the protagonists have totally zero training and can use every type of firearm and explosives known to man and can wipe the floor with specially trained swat teams, FBI, and even national guard by the truckloads. I know I know it's a video game and I'm taking it far too seriously but that's just my pet peeve. D: Its also why I'm preferential to Vice City Stories and GTA 4, in both cases the protagonists had military backgrounds.))**

Lucky groaned with exertion as he struggled to push the weight bar up for his last rep. His arms trembled with the effort but at last he managed to get it up high enough to be called successful. With a shout of triumphant Lucky allowed it to slam back into the bench cradle with a resounding clatter. He lay on the bench blowing in exhaustion as he waited for his heart to slow from its headlong gallop. It was his fifth day in Windpoint City and the third day since he had managed to drag himself back to the Shamrock exhausted and bleeding and with half the police force nipping around trying to sniff out his trail. After a good cussing and a cuff or two Finn had arranged for a underground doctor to treat Lucky's wounds and had sternly order him to lay low and that was exactly what Lucky had been doing. It had been particularly dull staying in the gym for three straight days, there wasn't much to do besides working out and watching TV after all. That was why the Irishman was glad to hear that soon he wouldn't have to stay in much longer. From listening to the news it seem that the heat was already wearing off. A huge shootout between two rival gangs, the Colored Apostles and the Ocean Heights Rattlers, in a local mall and another bombing at the city museum had seen that the police had little enough manpower and resources to spare for such frivolous crimes as a few counts of murder, assault, and reckless driving.

Rising from the bench Lucky used a towel he had brought out earlier to mop off the sweat that coated his body after the hour long workout session. As always after an intense workout session it felt that his whole body thrummed with power.

"Looking good!" Called one of the Irish hoods before going back to beating the crap out of one of the punching bags. Lucky grinned but made no reply. He began to stretch while he looked around. It was late evening, just a little after six thirty. The gym still had a sizable crowd, it almost always did. However unlike during the daytime most of the men there were congregating around the bar rather than the boxing ring or exercise equipment. Lucky had just decided to grab a Logger beer himself and head up to watch some Republic Space Rangers, it was fast becoming his favorite show, when his uncle came down the steps and into the room. The old man was wearing a sharp white dress shirt, slacks, and brown loafers. A thin gold chain hung around his neck. Lucky had never seen him look so dapper before and he was a bit surprise.

"Lucky boy," He boomed out from across the room upon catching sight of his nephew. "Just the man I was wanting to see. Come on son come on. Not a moment to loose."

With a shrug Lucky snatched up a black sweat shirt displaying the Prolaps logo and tossed it on. It had come in the bunch of clothes that his cousin Tony had picked up for him the day before in a show of generosity; he made a mental note to pay Tony back as soon as possible. Lucky hurried towards his uncle who was already almost through the door, upon exiting he passed another Irish thug who was just entering.

"Hey how you doing what's new?" The thug greeted him with a polite nod of head. Lucky nodded back but made no reply as he trailed behind his uncle.

Finn finally stopped before the parked Patriot and turned to face Lucky with a halfway tense halfway excited look on his face.

"What's up uncle?" Lucky asked uncertainly. Finn didn't reply immediately. He reached into his pants pocket and produced a cartoon of Redwood cigarettes. A flick of his wrist pushed the butt of one out and Finn effortlessly picked the protruding cigar from the box with his lips. Some more rummaging in the next pocket and the old man produced the same silver plated lighter Lucky had seen him use last time and lit the cancer stick.

"Just received a call from a friend of mine down in the slammer," Finn said in between puffs of the heavily fragranced smoke. "He says an acquaintance of his is coming into town and he asked us as a personal favor to help this acquaintance to the best of our ability."

"I thought the city was cut off. How will he come here?" Lucky replied confusedly.

"Like that's ever stopped anyone before." Finn replied with a laugh. "He's coming by boat and we're already late. So quit the jawing and get in the car. You're driving."

Lucky grunted an affirmative and entered the vehicle from the driver's side without further ado. He noted that his uncle sat in the back behind him and that there was also another man in the backseat at the place where Lucky had been sitting the last time he was in the Patriot. It was no other than Lando Murphy. He was dressed in a stripped knit sweater and black Chinos. He grinned at Lucky.

"Nice to see you again boyo." He greeted. Lucky smiled back and nodded before returning his attention to the front. He started the car and reversed.

"Take us to the docks over in Gantz," Lando directed.

"Just follow the GPS." Finn added. "And get some music going. Its as dead as a parlor in here."

With a grunt Lucky fiddled the radio dial, going through static and blaring music until his uncle sang out

"There. Right there by damn."

_Yes mon, this is West coming to you from Jahlove 21. to you nothing but the maddest Reggae tunes them! We going back old school by popular demand. The big man Max Romeo pan Chase the Devil. Here we go! _

Lucky listened with intrigue as the West Indian jam blared out of the radio. He put the car into the drive and expertly slid into the late noon traffic while his uncle and Lando continued their conversation.

"You're strapped to go elephant hunting," Finn commented wryly. "You fitting to start world war three on the dock or something?"

"I don't like this," Lando replied uneasily. "I heard of this guy. He's bad news."

Lucky kept a moderate pace and took right upon Crescent Lane as directed by the rather annoyingly voice GPS. Even though he was focusing on the road he was keeping an ear open to the conversation behind him as well. He didn't consider it as eavesdropping but rather intelligence gathering. There was nothing worse than going into a situation uninformed was what his father had constantly repeated into him. Though he trusted his Uncle Finn Lucky McDuncan was not anyone's fool.

"He's perfect," Finn argued. "He's exactly what we need. Hell if half of what we heard of this guy is true then this is the best thing to have ever happened to our gang. Luck is finally turning our way."

"The fuck is bad news." Lando insisted. "Everyone who has any business dealings with him end up dying. I want him as far away from me as possible."

"They say he's taken on every gang in Liberty and is still alive," Finn went on eagerly as if though Lando hadn't spoken. "That there's nobody better in the business. He's just what we need. A solid outsider, not traceable to us if anything goes wrong. He couldn't have come at a better time either. A big shipment is coming in I hear tell, and I want it."

Lucky brought the car to a stop behind a black Infernus that also stopped in lieu of a red traffic light. His head buzzed with what he was hearing and a shiver ran down his spine. He definitely couldn't wait to meet whoever it was that the older men were talking about. Whether he was terrified or delighted however, he couldn't decide. In a few more seconds the light changed color and Lucky had the car rolling once more.

"If he makes one false move I'll kill him." Lando grated.

"You'll try." Finn chuckled.

"I wish you'd listen to me on this one old man," said Lando with a sigh. "I just got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"Either way it can't be helped." Finn said after awhile. "It's a favor that has been called in. We're men, we settle our debts."

"I suppose that's true." Lando replied grudgingly. The drive went on for the rest of the way in silence. Lucky listened to the reggae music and tried to hum along accordingly, he found that he was really enjoying the strange genre of music. They soon entered the Gantz district. Lucky noted that it was an industrial district. On either side of the road there was only a sea of high barbed wire fences only broken by gates and security booths and turnoffs into other streets. A few more minutes of silent driving and they were passing through a large gate and into the docking section. A sleepy looking watchman stood off to the side but paid the Patriot not the slightest bit of attention.

"Warehouse twenty one." Finn grunted to Lucky. The younger man nodded and began cruising through the docks which was eerily silent and deserted. The banning of water traffic effectively meant that the docks were closed until further notice. There were all types of vehicles parked around and in between the various pyramids of containers and warehouses. Boats of all sizes and types were also tethered alongside the dock, so much that Lucky knew he could probably jump from one sea craft to the other and thus make his way down the entire length of the extensive dock without ever once wetting his foot. The only sound beside the soft music in the car was the cawing of gulls.

"That's him." Finn McDuncan said just a few minutes of silent driving later. Lucky said nothing but just merely slowed the car while keeping his head on the figure that was by the rundown looking warehouse twenty one. It was a man, short compared to Lucky and also slightly built. He leant back against the peeling wall of the warehouse with a casual grace that bespoke there was more to him that meets the eye. He had brown hair that was cut close to the scalp and sported a well maintained five o clock shadow of the same color. His complexion was dark, not tanned but rather just dark. The man couldn't be called overely handsome however, his gray eyes were just set a bit too high and his nose was rather on the larger size, despite this everything about him radiated a calm steady strength. He was dressed in an immaculate and very expensive looking black suit with a red tie and red pocket protector. Equally expensive looking black shoes completed the attire. A gray dufflebag also hung from his shoulder. Lucky brought the car to a complete stop and geared it down to neutral.

"Here take this," Finn said in an undertone to Lucky. "I don't think you'll have to use it but it never hurts to be cautious."

Lucky turned slightly and took the offered gun. It was a Desert Eagle. The gun was heavy but Lucky felt instantly better for having it in his grip. He slipped it into his waistband and did his best to cover it with the shirt though the bulge was obvious.

"Come on." Finn said exiting the vehicle. He was followed at once by Lando and then Lucky who fell in on the right side of his uncle. Together they began approaching the stranger who merely watched them come with solemn gray eyes, not shifting his position one bit.

"Mr. Bellic?" Finn asked when they were within speaking range. "Mr. Niko Bellic?"

"Finnegan McDuncan." The man replied. His voice was soft and almost remorseful; it also carried the hint of a Russian accent.

"Gerry McReary is a good lad," Finn said stepping forward and offering his hand for a shake. "He helped me out of a tight spot a few years back and I'm obliged to him for that. I'd be happy to help you if I can."

"Thank you," Niko Bellic said briefly shaking hands with the Irishman. "Whatever assistance you can offer is appreciated."

Lucky noted that the dufflebag was slightly open and that his hand was never far from the opening. He could tell that the man was as ready to kill them as they were ready to kill him.

"Perhaps we should talk as we drive." Lando said gruffly.

"An excellent idea." Niko replied. "I will be staying at the Greek Love Hotel on 145th Apple Street, Cayo district I believe."

"We know the place. We can give you a lift." Said Finn before starting back to the car, the rest of the congregation followed.

"Lucky will put your luggage in the back." Finn said again.

"I'd prefer to keep it on me." Niko answered in a neutral voice.

The older Irishman merely shrugged but Lucky tensed a little bit. He knew better than to make his feelings about that known however. He would just have to trust to faith that he wasn't the first one to go down if bullets started flying. Lucky waited until everybody was comfortably seated in the car before he punched in the coordinates in the gps and pulled out, listening to the annoying voice once more. Lando now sat in the passenger's seat leaving Niko in the back with Finn.

"So what brings you to Windpoint City in these perilous times?" Finn McDuncan asked, blunt as ever. "I was only told that you needed assistance."

There was a shuffling of papers, Lucky glanced up at the mirror for a second and saw that Niko had produced a wallet and was showing Finn something in it.

"Cute girl." The older Irishman commented. "Yours?"

"No," Niko shook his head. "My niece. Her name is Kate. She will be five in two months. And she was kidnapped. You will help me find out where the scum is who took her and then I will kill them."

He said the last in such a tone of cold certainty that Lucky almost shivered. He had no doubt that this Niko Bellic meant every single word.

"What makes you think that she is here?" Finn asked.

"I managed to capture one of them before he could scurry off," Niko answered steadily. "I convinced him to talk."

"What did he say?" Lando asked curiously.

"Mostly he asked me to stop hitting him in the stomach with my bat," Niko said dryly to a chuckle from all the men present. "But in-between he managed to gasp out that they were under orders of a Willie Pegorino, the cousin of a former now deceased associate."

"Why would they take the girl?" Finn pondered.

"They've demanded a ransom," Niko said running a hand through his hair wearily. "An exorbitant amount. But I know in my heart of hearts they still intend to kill her. This is about revenge."

"We'll do everything in our power to find this bastard." Finn replied solemnly. "You have my oath on that."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

The rest of the drive went on in comfortable silence, the only conversation now coming from the radio. It was almost thirty more minutes before Lucky pulled up at the required destination which proved to be a squat ugly building, the lights which advertised it as a hotel flickered on and off in a forlorn manner.

"We'll get to work on it immediately Mr. Bellic."

"Here is my number, call me as soon as you have something. I would reimburse you for your effort, I have_"

"No, we won't take your money. We simply do what any red-blooded man would do. Besides that Gerry is a friend, and if you're his friend then you're a friend too."

"But still I'm a man who settles his own tabs. If there is anything that I can do to repay you then simply give me a call."

With that Niko Bellic exited the vehicle and made his way towards the revolving door of the Sunrise Hotel.

"Take us back to the gym boy." Finn ordered at once. "We best get on it immediately."

Lucky grunted and complied. As he drove he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get very ugly very soon.

**((Yup. You read right. Enter Niko Bellic, GTA coolest protagonist to date. :D It just sucks when the pass comes back to fuck you over as Niko is constantly finding out. So this takes place five years after the events of GTA 4 so Niko is a bit more settled to American culture and he is filthy rich from his past exploits in GTA 4, besides that he is still the same. For those who remember the game Kate Bellic is the child that Roman and Mallory have when you chose to do the revenge ending, if you had chosen the Deal ending Roman would have been killed and Mallory's baby would have been a son instead. I think we can safely say that Niko choosing the revenge instead of deal option would be canon. Stay tune folks it only gets better from here on out. Read, Review, Enjoy. :D)) **


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